Serial Homicide
by JuniperLemon
Summary: Dean finds himself in prison but what he wasn't expecting is that his cellmate, Sam Wesson, has killed more than him.
1. Chapter 1

Dean shifted on his bed, the plastic covering on the 'mattress' squeak under the movement. His orange uniform uncomfortably tight in all the wrong places. He worked a finger in between the fabric and his shoulder to try and encourage blood flow. He jumped when his cell mate opened his eyes and turned his head to stare at Dean.

He'd only been in the cell a matter of minutes but, due to the stock of books on law, politics and rights stacked around his side of the room, Dean had already passed judgement on his long haired cellie. The hunter jumped when the man spoke.

"What you in here for?" Hazel eyes scanned over the older man, assessing.

Dean's tongue poked out over his lips, "Fraud and lying to the police mostly." He blamed his dad for it but wasn't about to rat him out.

Sam nodded and pursed his lips. He seemed satisfied with the answer, "Good enough."

"What?" This may be Dean's first time in prison but it seemed pretty weird to him that any crime could be justified as 'good enough'.

"Oh, paedophilia, child sex stuff... That doesn't get tolerated in my cell. Last guy who came in with a charge like that got moved out for his own protection."

"Oh... What about you? What did you do?" The hunter questioned as he watched Sam pull himself off his bunk and up to the bars at the front of the room, "Some political crime, I guess?" He eyed the books.

The other prisoner smirked over his shoulder slightly before pulling a mirror out of his pocket and holding it outside the cell to get a view down the corridor, "Something like that."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Serial homicide. You got a problem with that?" He glanced back again but not for long enough to make Dean think the man actually cared about his reaction.

"No, sir. Not at all."

"I guess we'll get along just fine then." Sam muttered but the pronunciation of his words slipped as something outside the cell caught his attention.

Dean groaned internally and flopped back on his bed. He didn't close his eyes however as he knew he'd been keeping at least one eye on his roommate at all times.

* * *

"Wesson, he's my cellmate. Is it true he's a serial killer?" Dean whispered to another inmate sat at the round table. The trays of barely edible slop were cooling even further as they ignored it to spread news instead.

"Shit, man. That's true but I heard they were revenge killings."

A fellow prisoner, who had been eavesdropping, leant back on their stool to join their conversation, "Well, I heard he was like Batman. He'd hear about child abuse stories and drop in to rescue them kiddies and make sure that bastard don't hurt no one every again."

"No way! That's just rumors!"

"Ah, I dunno... He seems like the type."

Dean tuned out as the men around him began to argue about Sam Wesson's crimes. He saw the tall man enter the room, collect his tray and deposit himself at an empty table by the wall. The hazel eyes followed inmates as the moved about the room as though he was always on alert. When a couple of people joined his table Sam threw the rest of his food in the trash and retreated back to his cell.

Dean didn't know if these rumors were true but he certainly hoped so.


	2. Chapter 2

There was a creak of plastic mattress from across the room and Dean had to stop himself turning over to see why Sam was moving around in the night. Having not quite mastered sleeping in this environment yet, Dean knew from experience that Sam slept pretty solidly through the whole night aside from the rare soft snore.

He slowly turned his head until he had a clear view of the room and also his cellmate who was standing across the room by his cupboard of books and items. He had to turned his head back suddenly when Sam began to migrate around the room again. His footsteps were self conscious, barely making any noise as they made contact with the freezing cement floor. Only when Sam had stopped moving did Dean twist his neck around to watch.

The large man stood at the bars to their cell and froze as though his mind held enough power to spring it open. He stilled his breathing and closed his eyes. Slowly, as though afraid to wake a sleeping dragon, his hand, grasping his trusty mirror, edged between the bars. He peered down into the glass to see what was happening along the corridor. Whatever he saw seemed to satisfy him as he turned it to check out the other side.

Sam stayed there and Dean watched him for the full 20 minutes before he suddenly tugged his arm in and made a silent dash for his bed, feet ghosting over the floor. He leapt into bed mutely having learnt how to do so from years of secretive creeping about.

Dean had to crash his eyes shut to prevent his murderer roommate from noticing for him. However, he cracked his eyes open just in time to see a guard slowly tread past their cell with eyes intently glued to Sam's still and slightly snoring form. He was a good actor.

Once he was gone, Sam reached over to the pile of books and scribbled down some notes on a random page.

Dean was suspicious but knew better than to just ask his roommate what the hell he was doing. However, this pattern continued to occur over the next couple of weeks but were often at different times in the night. But, unfortunately for Dean, he was beginning to miss Sam's midnight investigations as his sleep deprived mind was beginning to force him to sleep from lights out to 7am.

* * *

"Surprise inspection!" The guard called from the end of their row, "Stand outside your cells and do not move."

Sam leapt up from the bed and began frantically searching in between his books. He stuffed a few items inside his clothes but the last thing he pulled out caught Dean's attention.

A large piece of cake with white icing and sprinkles sat on Sam's large hand. The man eyed the cake before glancing out their room.

"Inmates outside!" The guard hollered, more aggressively this time.

"Shit," Sam panicked before breaking half off and stuffing it into his mouth. He rammed his jaws down rapidly as he thrust the other half at Dean, "Fucking eat it."

He didn't even think to refuse as he shoved his half into his mouth and began trying to make it disappear, "Where did you get that?" Dean murmured around the delicious, sugary goodness. Even a dentist would have struggled to understand his words.

"The kitchen. Now stop asking fucking questions and get out here!" He grabbed Dean's sleeve and pulled him out to the corridor where they stood either side of the metal bars. They'd made it just in time as the officers were getting closer to their cell.

The hunter swallowed just in time for when the guards marched passed them and began over turning their beds, throwing over their mattresses and scattering Sam's books across the floor. It seemed more of a punishment out of bitter hatred than any sort of inspection. Noise continued to reign out and Dean could see Sam's lip curling slightly.

Suddenly the guards left empty handed and bustled to the next poor victims. Sam turned his head slightly to assess the mess in the room which caused his head to drop and hair to flop over his forehead. Their room had been trashed and every prisoner in that building knew they'd have to fix it up for inspection in an hour.

"Why did they do this?" Dean asked while picking up one of Sam's books and handing it back to its owner who flicked through it ensure none of the pages were damaged.

"To prove a point." Sam muttered distractedly.

The hunter took a second to try and figure it out but came up with nothing, "What do they need to prove?"

The tall man sighed and turned to face the newbie, "You haven't been here long enough to experience this yet but when someone does something wrong and the guards can't figure out who it is they do shit like this." He placed his book back where it belonged, "It's all in the hope either the wrongdoer will come forward or another inmate will snitch. Everyone gets punished until it is solved and then they congratulate themselves on great work when they're just using scare tactics."

He began to right his bed but underestimated how heavy the metal frame would be. Without asking, Sam came and helped him turn it.

"Will this make the guy confess?" Dean asked.

Sam turned but not quickly enough to hide the smirk, "You know what? I don't think so."

* * *

A noise from the bars made Dean quickly flip around. Sam froze but couldn't move out of his incriminating position quickly enough. Besides, the wires he had woven together into a makeshift key still remained in the lock.

"What are your doing?!" He hissed.

"Nothing. Nothing. Go back to sleep." He turned and continued trying to unlock the door.

"If you're getting out of this rat cage then I'm coming too." Dean demanded, standing up and placing his hands on his hips.

"Keep your voice down!" Sam dropped his head as though he'd been given the worst news of his life, "Fine but it'll be risky. If we get caught you'll be facing double your time at least."

"I don't care." Dean tried to remind himself that 2.5 months ago he was coming face to face with werewolves and vampires on a daily basis. In prison he'd gone soft.

"Fine, get dressed." Sam continued working on the lock as Dean shimmed into his prison uniform.

A loud clunk echoed around their cell and Dean knew it was time to go.


	3. Chapter 3

They stepped out onto the grey concrete of the corridor and the thrill of disobedience shivered down his spine. Sam was already coasting the area with his eyes, on the lookout for guards or night-owl prisoners. He seemed satisfied with their solitude so began the silent jog left, towards the end of their cell row.

The prison was silent in a way a normal civilian would not expect a large building of 500 men to be. Even with the gentlest steps the thin rubber soles of their fabric shoes echoed into every cell but the sleeping inmates seemed oblivious. The footfall of guards were common enough sounds that each inmate becomes a heavy sleeper to an extent.

Sam's legs were longer than Dean's but the Hunter had kept up regular exercise so managed to keep up easily. The tall man skidded around the corner quickly and grabbed Dean's arm to pull him out of sight too. The pair stood heavy breathing around the edge of the last cell while Sam appeared to be intently listening. Seconds later, the sound of a guard coughing on a lower floor radiated out and Sam scowled as though a large, guard-shaped spanner had been thrown into the works. He tugged on his cellmates sleeve as an indication to move and they did.

Somehow Sam knew the layout of the prison like he'd walked the halls many times before and at this point, dean didn't doubt that he probably had.

—-

They moved deeper into the building while Dean's instincts were crying out to head outwards towards freedom. If this is a trap, his mind moaned, I'm so done. Despite this he followed patiently like a dog after it's master. He had to trust in Sam and Sam's apparently ultimate knowledge.

They reached a room and Dean rolled his eyes in mental preparation for a broom closet. He'd seen enough prison break movies on the late-night, grainy TV he caught on motel stops. However, Sam pushed open the unlocked door to what appeared to be an interview room with a single table and 3 chairs. The 1-way darkened glass sat on one wall and Dean couldn't help but distrust the dark eye that watched them. Sam led them to the wall under the dark window, away from the opening door so if someone were to poke their head in the door itself would mostly block their existence.

Sam took off his prison jump suit and commanded Dean to do the same. He tied the legs together. Luckily, Dean had elected to wear a vest under his suit or he'd be stark naked right now. Sam seemed a little more prepared with 2 vests on and shorts underneath while Dean was stuck in just his prison issue boxer shorts on the bottom.

Suddenly, Sam dropped down and sat against the wall in the very corner of the dark room. Dean followed but mistrust was bubbling up inside him.

"What are we doing in here?" His whispered in a harsh tone.

Sam looked offended but he clearly couldn't be bothered with it so relaxed into internal anxiety, "I've got us this far, haven't I? A little trust."

They waited for an eternity. With each second the sweat on Dean's brow multiplied and even began to drip. He shouldn't have ever committed to this crazy escape attempt since it was so stupid. He swallowed thickly and looked across at his cellmate who had his fingers in a prayer position in front of his mouth. The man's eyes were sealed closed and he clearly sacrificed all senses to intensify his hearing. Dean wouldn't be surprised if Sam told him to shut up because he swore his heart was thumping at 100 miles per hour.

All of a sudden, the sound of thick boots slapping on the plasticky floor and jingling keys came racing down the corridor. Dean's gaze shot to Sam in wild panic but the murderer's face had lit up and he took a crouching position.

A door close to theirs was thrown open, the brass handle smacking against the wall, and the guard flew in. He blurted a garbled message of escaped prisoners to which the warden responded with slapping the emergency lockdown button. An alarm started blaring out throughout the building and the sounds of people running about began. Dean held in the urge to smack Sam around the head for getting him into this situation.

Suddenly, Sam grabbed Dean's hand and ran from the room. As they fled the 5 meters to the warden's office, the Hunter managed to get a look down the corridor to see it completely empty; the staff had run towards the cells or front door instead of this obscure corridor that leads nowhere.

"Thank God." Sam huffed under his breath at the sight of the empty room.

"For what?" He couldn't see what God did to help them in this situation. They were trapped in the warden's office.

The tall man clicked the lock across and began to explain as he moved toward to window, "The warden here is known for being a stubborn and picky man. Too such an extent, he protested having bars on his window as it'd spoil the view." As he says this, he slams open the blinds to reveal a large barless window.

It was a glorious sight if Dean had ever seen one.

Sam grabbed their combined prison suits and tied the arms on his own together to make a hoop which he looped around the radiator under the windowsill. He threw the rest out the window. It only descended a couple of meters but at this height each meter made a difference.

"Go down as far as you can on the rope then let go. When you land bend your knees and, if possible, roll to reduce the impact. The human body isn't made for falling from the 3rd floor. Go." He pushed Dean towards the window and the Hunter went willingly.

He abseiled as far as the rope would allow before closing his eyes and dropping. The second his feet felt pressure he bent and began to roll. The landing hurt like hell but he'd made it in one piece. Glancing around, they were close to the surrounding fence compared to the rest of the building. They had a few meters dash here compared to the 20 meters on the further side of the building. The presence of the car park had forced the building team to bring the boundary closer.

Sam dropped down beside him with significantly more grace and began to run straight for the fence without wasting time instructing Dean. The Hunter had eyes though and he got the gist. They reached the fence in seconds and Sam threw his spare vest over the barbed wire at the top. It wouldn't completely protect them from the vicious barbs but would severely lessen their messy impact.

"Boost me!" Sam called and Dean acted instantly, bending down before he had fully stopped running and allowing Sam to thrust his foot into his palm. The Hunter pushed up as the taller bounced off the ground and used the muscles in his arms to haul himself to the top. He straddled the fence and Dean thought he saw the man prepare to jump the other side leaving Dean as a distraction so to give the murderer more time to flee.

Suddenly, a large hand descended and Dean jumped for it. Sam pulled him up and Dean kicked up at the fence. They jumped the other side and ran towards the cars. They could hear voices shouting behind them but it was impossible to tell how close they were over the noise of the alarm.

"What now?" Dean yelled, breathless.

"Find an old car. We need to Hotwire it." Sam called back as he shot in between the rows of cars.

"Good! I can do that!" It was time for Dean to become useful in this escape.

They found an old rusty thing that barely resembled a vehicle. Dean jumped in and began to work on the electrics while Sam kept watch as the prison hummed like a stepped on ant hill. The voices were getting closer and Dean's heart was thumping incessantly. He could tell his cellmate didn't want to rush him but was getting increasingly impatient to go. They were losing their head start.

"Shit, they're here." Sam called across the car to Dean.

As he said the last word the car shuddered to life but the call of the engine drew the attention of the guards in and outside the compound. Dean leapt in the driver's seat and Sam ducked into the passenger. The doors slammed themselves as Dean ripped the car out of it's space. A back window smashed as a bullet flew through the car.

Sam went to swear but didn't get the word out before a bullet tore through the flesh on his shoulder. He cried out in pain and blood immediately began oozing out.

"Sam!" Dean's hand moved to touch him but Sam didn't have time for this.

"I didn't get us this far to only get this far! Drive!" The gas pedal was again pushed to the floor and dust rose up behind the car as the wheels span, struggling to gain traction. Suddenly they caught and they moved off faster. They had a head start but barely.

"Keep pressure on it!"

"Turn right at the road." Sam grit out between his teeth.

"Into town?! Are you insane?" He shot a look over to his passenger, who was cradling their shoulder, before looking back at the dusty track.

"The guards have definitely called the local patrol by now so guess which way they'll be headed. Out of town towards the prison. There is a tall metal partition so they won't see us from the other side of the road. Once in town we can hitch a new ride which won't be on alert and get to the next town over where I have a friend who I'm pretty sure will drive us out." Sam snapped, the pain reducing his patience to a simmering ember.

"Okay." Dean answered instantly, starting to learn that he shouldn't doubt how much thought Sam had invested into this. He turned right a few seconds later and headed towards town at as fast as the tin can could carry them.

Sam began rummaging around in the car and found a half drunk water bottle. He took a swig before passing it across to his accomplice who accepted gratefully. It was warm and stale but quenched his thirst.

"How did you decide when to do it?" Dean inquired as the town appeared on the horizon.

"We were approaching a switch over where the guards on cameras swap with guards pacing the floor. It's a window of about 20 minutes so when the guard from our floor left I took the chance assuming the eyes wouldn't be on the cameras. I was taken to the interview room once and it was unlocked when we got there so I assumed it'd be the same. If not it was just a normal lock so we could pick it."

"A lot of guess work." Dean replied dubiously.

"Prison breaking isn't exactly a fine science, Winchester." He rolled his eyes as the pain flowed over him. "Let's just find a new car." The words were muttered as the passed the welcome signs and the sounds of sirens passed them on the opposite side of the road. "And quickly."


	4. Chapter 4

-4 weeks later-

Sam was crouching beside Dean's Impala as he talked the Hunter through the latest plan. His shoulder still bulged under his shirt where the bandage lay but the man acted as though it didn't bother him. The elder man listened intently to the plan and peered up at the dark house as Sam's words washed over him.

Dean interrupted, "Are you sure about this guy?"

Sam had to muffle his mouth to stop himself snorting too loud, "He raped 4 women and practically tortured another. He was just rich enough to get away with it."

Dean nodded in reassurance. He'd seen Sam researching the man and knew he was insanely thorough when it came to choosing his victims. He didn't take his job lightly and it showed in the detail he knew about each individual. Needless to say, the man's insane research skills had also come in hand for Dean on his hunts. Sam has become an invaluable tool in Dean's hunting.

"You act as look out while I go and rough him up a little. Just enough to make sure he learns his lesson." No matter how many times they did this together Sam always reminded Dean that he knew when to stop and would never cross the line for someone who didn't deserve it. It's Sam's mind only murderers deserve to die.

Dean nodded and moments later he was alone as Sam, stealthy as a cat, ran up to the house and with gloves hands lifted the front window after jolting the lock off. He looked over his shoulder and waved at the other man before slipping into the pitch black of the quiet house.

The other man peered up and down the street and made sure to glance at all the neighbors' windows as they'd nearly gotten caught a few nights ago when an old lady was peering out at them. They really couldn't afford to have to police called as they were still wanted by the authorities and both had sworn they'd never see the inside of a cell again.

His attention was snapped back to the house when the sound of something smashing sounded out. It came from relatively deep inside so the noise was mostly muffled. Dean went on high alert anyway to ensure there was no movement on the street. Sam had been in there for nearly 4 minutes so Dean knew he'd come racing out at any moment. They never lingered long in one spot.

As predicted, Sam came bolting back out the window merely seconds later looking unscathed and controlled. Both men leapt into the car and Dean floored it to flee the scene. Sam had already given up complaining about the noise from the engine as Dean had enforced that he would never get rid of Baby.

"Everything okay?" Dean asked once they were far enough away to be safe.

"All went smoothly." Sam smiled back softly. He was massaging his knuckles in a rhythmic motion which caught the driver's eye.

"You got hurt?" Concern colored his tone.

"I'm fine! I can still hold a shovel which is the main thing." Sam shook the pain out of his hands quickly; the ache was familiar so he never made a big deal of it.

"Good, let's see if we can salt n' burn this thing before morning." Wearily, he sighed and blinked. Since teaming up with Sam his nights had become twice as long but another set of hands really got the job done faster especially since he hadn't heard from his dad in months.

Sam chuckled, "Dealing with baddies, that's our job."

Dean peered across at him with an eyebrow raised, "Most people probably don't see it that way." Beating people up and digging up graves definitely didn't come across as positive to most civilians that they encountered. Especially if those people happened to be law enforcement.

"We save lives. I don't care how other people see it because I know the truth." Sam murmured as he watched the world fly passed the window quickly.

"You're not wrong." Smiling, he looked out across the road and felt good. He'd always felt conflicted about what they had to do to help people but from the moment he met Sam he realised that good comes in different forms. Just because to the outside world they looked bad didn't mean they actually were.

They sped off into the distance ready to help another person and save another life.


End file.
